


Der Käfig

by sophiria, uglywombat



Series: Steve Rogers: Die Dunkelheit [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dark Steve Rogers, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Forced Vaginal Fingering, Kidnapping, Possessive Behaviour, Possessive Steve, forced engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 10:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21014192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiria/pseuds/sophiria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: If there is one thing Steve Rogers knows, it’s that this is what he wanted. You in his life, your worlds so intertwined that there is little else. There is just one thing missing, but he’s about to change that.





	Der Käfig

**Author's Note:**

> der Käfig translates to the cage
> 
> This was in response to a Yandere prompt received on Tumblr, the prompt was “I made us a scrapbook! It’s mostly pictures of you, but we’ll take more!” 
> 
> This is obviously a jump in time however due Besessenheit will continue! We are going to add some one-shots as we progress including looking back at the compound and some of the dark events that occurred. 
> 
> We really hope you enjoy this!

The scent of coffee pulled you from the safety of the bedroom, your stomach growling in protest and desperation for sustenance, or in the least a bagel. You had been craving a bagel with cream cheese for days.**  
**

Your body was stiff and tender from a long and strenuous night pinned underneath Steve, your hips aching as you made your way down the stairs. Another long, exhausting fuck-fest in your new home in Brooklyn, well the house Steve claimed to be yours and his. In truth, it was a prison.

The open plan living and kitchen was Steve-free; you immediately assumed he was still on his run, gracing you with a serene moment of calm and reprieve. You contemplated trying to break the windows again, however, your sprained wrist was a painful reminder of your last attempt.

As you walked into the empty kitchen, your arms raised above your head to stretch out the muscles in your upper back, your eyes fell onto the New York Times left on the kitchen bench beside the coffee pot. You sighed and scoffed at the headline.

** _Retired Captain America makes society debut with new girlfriend at charity event._ **

Steve was not subtle. Of course, he’d left it right there for you to see. Now the world knew you were together, just as he had planned all along.

You examined the photo closely as you sip your coffee. You made a handsome couple, you hated to admit; the article raving about your chemistry together, the generous donation Steve had made to the Children’s Cancer Society and of course his great service to the world.

“You looked so beautiful last night.” You jumped, the newspaper falling onto the ground beside your feet as Steve placed a syrupy kiss to your cheek, his hand finding your exposed thigh, his thumb lazily drawing circles against your skin.

How the hell did a two hundred-something pound man made of muscle walk around like a ninja?

You watched him kneel before you, placing a soft kiss on your knee before picking up the newspaper, his hand wrapped around your thigh, and placing it onto the counter where it had been, besides a big, navy leatherbound book.

“Seems we made quite the impression on New York society,” he giggled pulling you against his thick chest, his arms wrapped around your waist sweetly. You submissively wrapped your arms around his neck; it was easier than fighting again.

Had a stranger, or one of those reporters, walked in right now they would have described the scene before them as domestic and saccharine. The perfect picture of two people in love. Soul mates even.

_Captain America finds love. Captain America deserves happiness._

If only they knew the truth.

Steve gently pulled away from you, as though you were made of glass. His smile was so warm and inviting, the glimmer of darkness becoming dimmer as you lived under his thumb.

“I have a surprise for you.” He gently coaxed you over to the oversized dark grey modular sofa that sat in front of the TV and sat closely beside you, the leatherbound book heavy in his hands. He pushed into your lap, his hands immediately beginning to fuss in his own lap. **“I made us a scrapbook! It’s mostly pictures of you, but we’ll take more!”**

Your heart dropped as you flipped through the scrapbook. True to his word, it was filled with photos of you. You recognised a few from your photo wall from your bedroom in the compound, including the dinner party photos from Hannah’s birthday dinner.

It had been a particularly raucous night involving far too much knock-off champagne, burnt lasagne and a powerful acoustic rendition of Lily Allen’s Not Fair by Madonna, Hannah’s favourite drag queen from Princess Lulu, the drag queen karaoke bar you frequented.

The photo of you and your Grandmother, taken a few months before her death, brought a new level of weight to the book, your fingers gently drawing over the photo. She looked frail, but the stubborn glint in her eye warming your heart.

God, when was the last time you had felt something other than fear or resentment?

Your eyes welled with tears, a sob escaping your lips as your eyes fell onto the photos of you taken from inside the compound. Candid images of you making breakfast with Bucky, playing pool with Sam.

Your thoughts fell back to last night, Bucky’s vibranium hand resting against your back as you danced to some Michael Buble standard.

_“I’ve missed my cooking partner,” Bucky said with his signature smirk, twirling you like a pro. Steve had stood on your toes four times before you were forced to take the lead._

_“I miss you too,” you sighed, resting your head on his chest. God, you wanted to tell him, trust in him that Steve wasn’t a saint, far from it. But Steve’s threat weighed heavy on your shoulders._

_“I’m happy for you both,” his head was now resting on the crown of your head, his woody, musky scent calming, “you both deserve some happiness.”_

“Oh sweetheart,” he worried pulling the book from your hands and pulling you onto his lap, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought it would be a nice surprise.” His hands methodically stroked your back as you cried on his chest, your tears catching on his button-up shirt. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you like your gift?”

You pulled away, your lip wobbling as your eyes searched his. You could tell him the truth: I hate you, I will never love you, I miss my friends and I just want to go home. Given the last punishment you had received, it was probably not the wisest choice.

“I just miss my friends,” you cried. “I miss Bucky and Sam, Hannah… please, can I just call them?”

Steve smiled warmly, his thick hand gently stroking your cheek. “Absolutely.”

You flummoxed. This was a trick. Surely, this had to be some form of test.

And then you felt the weighty box placed into your hand. Your hands shook as Steve opened the box, your worst fear confirmed

Had you not been his captive for the last two months, the nervous, genuine dark blue eyes watching you like a hawk would have been endearing.

“I… I wanted it to be more romantic, my proposal that is.” His thumbs fussed over the brilliant square-cut diamond before taking the ring and placing it on your finger. “I couldn’t wait though,” he sighed happily as you examined the heavy ring. “Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

You looked at him incredulously, begging and pleading the subversive devil on your shoulder to pipe down. “Like you’re really giving me the option to choose.”

The slap reverberated through the room, the sting pulsating over your cheek as he ripped the slouchy jumper in half, throwing the ruined garment across the room before giving your panties the same treatment.

“No, sweetheart, that attitude just won’t do,” his voice dropping an octave, rich with anger and frustration, as his hand gripped the back of your head. “We’ve talked about this. You know I will follow through with my promise if you continue down this path of disrespect, insubordination, and disloyalty.”

A husky sigh dripped from your lips as he drew his finger up into your silky pussy and curled, his finger massaging that clandestine jewel only Steve worshipped.

“Oh sweetheart, you have this pretense that you don’t love me, but your body betrays you,” he smirked as he pulled his finger out of you and showing you the evidence of your recreant body. “You are wetter than the Hudson River.”

Watching him lick and suck his finger clean of your juices should not have been hot. The slurping, the blown irises of his dark blue eyes, his hand gripping your wrists behind your back. You should not have been turned on by your kidnapper but you were.

His finger delved back in, deep and unforgiving as he concentrated on your g-spot, the only man to know that he could have you screaming and begging for your release in under two minutes.

“You pretend to despise me, you are cozened in your fear of me.” Blazing lips trailed over your neck, nipping and licking as he earnestly fucked you with a single finger, explicitly dragging his finger along your g-spot.

Steve laughed as you mewled pathetically, a literal fuck doll in his lap, your treasonous body giving up its fight and allowing his fingers to drag you towards the precipice. You were going to hurtle over the edge and drown.

“Deep down, my sweet little girl, I am the only man who can make you feel whole. I am the only man who can make you happy.” His teeth nipped at your earlobe, his breath fiery against your skin. “I am the only man who can make you come like a rocket. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

You should have been ashamed by the wanton pleas and cries launching from your lungs before you could catch them.

You came with an explosion, your body quaking as his fingers ceaselessly fucked you through your orgasm, his lips claiming yours possessively.

When you finally came to your senses, Steve had wrapped you both in a blanket and you were resting against his warm, fuzzy chest. One hand gently stroked your back whilst the other examined the heavy, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Come on sweetheart, we had better call everyone and give them the good news.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment! We love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> If you are a fan of the Yandere dark pool Laura has been writing a whole bunch of prompts. Check them out on her Tumblr: imanuglywombat


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